The Trails We Blaze
by faeriesnook
Summary: The year is 1543 and Portugal is driven to distraction worrying over the whereabouts of a certain missing Brit. Spain arrives with a map and an offer that prove to be too tempting to resist, but the lure of gold & glory may ultimately lead to destruction?


**Title:** Trails We Blaze  
**Author:** faeriesnook  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** The year is 1543 and Portugal is driven to distraction worrying over the whereabouts of a certain missing Brit. His brother arrives with a map and an offer that prove to be too tempting to resist - but the lure of gold and glory may ultimately lead to destruction... (El Dorado/Hetalia crossover)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia in anyway shape or form. Or The Road to El Dorado.

_Lisbon, Portugal. 1543._

Countless books laid strewn about the room. Some were open, some were closed, some looked as if they had been flung in a fit of anger. Some had pages coming loose, some had pages ripped completely free from the bindings. The cushions for the sofa were lying haphazardly across the room, and a chair had been knocked over. In short, the generally neat and orderly room looked as if it had seen a tornado hit it. And amidst this chaotic mess laid a young man. Well - not exactly a young man.

No, amidst the mess, sprawled out on the sofa was a scowl firmly planted on his face was the nation of Portugal, an innocent book in his hand. Idly he flipped through it, before groaning, slamming it shut and letting it drop to the floor. He covered his face with his hands for a brief moment before he sat up, and ran his fingers through his hair; wincing as they tugged at unexpected knots. He had been at this for hours, no, weeks. Reading any book he had in his fairly large library. But no matter which book he selected, it reminded him of England.

Book after book he had gone through, before simply throwing them aside. Sometimes in anger, other times in simple annoyance. Each one had only reminded him of the British nation, something he was trying desperately not to think about.

Nearly eight months ago England had gone on a voyage to the New World for an expedition. Generally, that wasn't something that should really concern Portugal. After all, these trips took time. He should know that for a fact having gone on many voyages himself, some had lasted him at least a year. But England had told him he wasn't planning on a very long trip. He said he would be back within sixth month's time. Even with poor weather, he should have returned already, shouldn't he?

What was more concerning what that no one had heard any word from the ship. It was as if it had just vanished. And Portugal could really not help but think the worse. It made his stomach knot in worry. What if there had been a storm and the ship had crashed? True, it took an awful lot to kill a Nation, one of their Kind. But if the ship had crashed (or maybe sunk) that would leave England stranded somewhere for God knows how long. Would Portugal ever even see him again? His stomach flip flopped and he forced himself to sit up.

He shouldn't be worrying. He shouldn't. Most likely the Brit had gotten caught up in the excitement of exploring and had just taken a bit longer then he'd anticipated. It wasn't like Portugal hadn't done that very same thing in the past. That had to be it. It just had to…

With an almost dejected sigh he picked up one of the books he had earlier discarded. The frown returned though, and almost immediately he dropped it to the ground.

England had given him the book for his birthday two years ago.

Jade green eyes glanced around the room and he couldn't help but sigh once again upon seeing the mess he had made. Maybe cleaning would keep him occupied? Portugal had to chastise himself for the horrible mess. He was overreacting really. England was fine. Really.

England would laugh if he saw how worked up Portugal had gotten. He could see it now really. The Englishman would look at the room, arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the doorframe. Those beautiful emerald eyes would scan the disheveled room, going from Portugal, then to the strewn about books, then back to the Portuguese man. He in turn would smile sheepishly, shifting from foot-to-foot. After a beat England would laugh, walking over and wrapping those lithe, pale arms around Portugal, calling him silly for worrying so much. He would chastise him, but there would be laughter etched into his voice hiding behind the ghost of a smile on his lips. That simple, but oh so rare, smile that Portugal missed seeing.

Standing there for a moment his eyes landed on the entry way of the room he half expected England to just stroll into the room, fresh from the sea and that mischievous look in his green eyes. He would walk in, take a seat on the sofa and prop his feet up on the small table in front of the sofa, despite Portugal's repeated efforts in telling him no too. And then he would go off on a tangent, telling him all about something he had discovered on the journey, or how much he loved the sea. He would keep talking until Portugal leaned down to plant a chaste kiss against the sea-parched lips. England would flush, suddenly forgetting anything he was saying and the Portuguese Nation would grin, telling him how much he had missed him and-

And that wasn't going to happen. England wasn't going to magically appear, no matter how much Portugal prayed for it to occur.

A heavy sigh escaped him before he bent back down to begin picking up the books lying about his sitting room, cringing when he saw a few with loose pages.

England would chastise him for that too. He could hear it now _'How could you go and ruin a perfectly good book?'_

So much for cleaning to distract him from worrying.

Groaning in frustration he set the small pile of books on his living room table, before running his hands through his long hair. A small frown formed as he tugged at an occasional knot. He'd have to properly tie his hair back later on. But first he had a mess to clean up. Picking up another nearby book he added it to the small pile on the table, before grabbing another.

His task came to an abrupt halt though when the sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears. Green eyes snapped up, his head turning to look at the entryway. A sudden hope filled him. Any moment England would appear, breathless, but alright.

Instead though, a familiar mop of brown hair poked its way into the room. Portugal looking at a familiar face. With another small groan, he picked up the stack on the table carrying them towards the book shelf. "What do you want?"

"Eeh? Not even a hello? Hermano has no manners!"

"Fine. Hello." His right eye twitched as he began setting the books back on the shelf. Well, more like shoving them back onto the shelf. "Now, what do you want irmao?"

"I can't come and visit?" Spain asked innocently and it caused Portugal to pause in his actions, turning to stare at him for a moment before shrugging.

"I suppose… How did you get in?" The sudden thought startled him. He hadn't heard anyone knock, and he was the only one at home today. To this, the Spanish Nation rocked back and forth on his heels, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling. Portugal groaned. "Spain. What have I told you about this! You have to knock! This isn't your home!"

"But we're family! And besides, the door was open." Was the simple argument. Portugal slammed his head against the book he was holding. Maybe this was all just a bad dream and if he hit his head hard enough he'd wake up. "Geeze, Portugal, it's a mess in here."

"No really? I had no idea."

"You're so silly hermano! But it really is a mess, though." Portugal resisted the urge to slam his head against the book in his hands again.

"Just help me clean." He snapped unable to help it. Behind him he heard shifting, and when he glanced over his shoulder he saw his brother stoop down, picking up some of the books still on the floor and walking over to Portugal to help put them away. Despite his irritation, a small thankful smile replaced his frown.

The two brothers fell into silence as they cleaned up the mess. With two people it didn't take long, and Portugal sighed in relief as his eyes scanned over his previously messy sitting room. Quietly he watched as Spain took a seat on the sofa, quickly making himself at home like he always did. As usual too, Portugal kicked his brothers feet when he tried to put them on the table, before he remembered his earlier question. "Now, what did you come here for? You can't expect me to believe it's just for a casual visit.

Especially with the way Spain was all but bouncing with excitement, his grin brighter than usual. South Italy had probably done something. Or maybe his explorers had found gold, or another treasure and he'd come to rub it in Portugal's face. Who knew when it came to the Spaniard really. Still though, Spain continued to play dumb. Cocking his head to the side innocently. Portugal in response crossed his arms and frowned. "Spain."

"Come on an expedition with me!" The younger Iberian blurted out. Portugal raised an eyebrow. An expedition? Why would he even think- "And before you say no, it's not for my country! Well, it sorta is, I mean it's hard for it not to be when I'm going. So I suppose that would make it for you too… Ah! But really. It's not. I mean, I'm funding it on my own!"

That caught the Portuguese man's attention. Pausing in his search for a hair ribbon he turned to look at his brother. "And what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, I know how much you like exploring~" It was true. He'd actually be itching to leave Lisbon for months now, to explore the seas and the New World again.

The offer was tempting. "And what brought on this urge to fund your own adventure _and _invite your brother?"

"I thought you'd never ask!" The grin grew, if that was possible, and then Spain all but bounced to his feet. "SO! The other day I was playing a game with some sailors down in one of my ports. I was winning naturally-"

"You were cheating weren't you?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he regretted questioning his brother. He should have just kicked him out from the start.

Spain looked appalled by the mere notion. "Me? Cheat? Never! But regardless! I was playing and there _may_ have been a bit of gambling-"

"You were playing the dice game, huh?" Portugal wished he didn't know his brother as well as he did sometimes…

"Yes!" His brother beamed. "And they wanted to play one more round when I was about to leave. I told them no naturally, I had a meeting and you know how my bosses get when I'm late. But then they brought out this!"

With a flourish Spain brought out a rolled piece of parchment. Then, after a moment of what the other seemed to think was a dramatic pause, unrolled it and held it with both hands in front of Portugal.

The navigator inside him awakened all but immediately as his eyes roamed over the map. It looked old, hand drawn with a strong attention to detail. Yet, at the same time, it looked all but impossible to follow. Like a hybrid between a real map and a map a child would draw, like the ones he'd used to draw for Mother as a child. Scrutinizing it, he watched the way the paint (it seemed like paint) shined in the sunlight as if it were gold. Despite the worn appearance, the paint had hardly faded. The entire map seemed to be a conundrum, a total contradiction on itself.

The Portuguese nation could only stare at it for a moment, eyebrow raised. Then, doing the best to squash all his curiosity he turned and returned to his previous search. "So, it's a map."

"Not just any map," Spain carried on, hardly paying attention to Portugal's comment. "It's a map to El Dorado!"

The curiosity vanished as Portugal stared at Spain blankly.

"El Dorado."

"Yes~"

"The _mythical _City of Gold."

"Yes!"

"The city no one's ever found despite countless of searches."

"Yes!"

"… Have fun." Plucking up a dark green ribbon from one of the shelves (and briefly wondering how it had gotten there) he tied his hair back into a ponytail, tugging the bow snugly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spain all but deflate as he whined. "Hermanoooo!"

"Irmaooo!" He mimicked, rolling his eyes as he turned to face him again, arms crossed over his chest. "It's probably fake. A wild goose chase."

"Which is why I brought it to you!" Spain was quick to point out, and then his lower lip jutted out in a pout. "Plus, El Dorado's real~ And I have a really good feeling about this map! I think it'll lead us there!"

"There's no 'us' Spain. I'm not coming on some silly adventure to a place that isn't real." He suddenly realized just why the Spaniard was funding this expedition on his own. It was so ridiculous, even his boss would have to think that after so many failed attempts. Turning his head to look back at his brother, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of worry settle in his gut. Oh God, he hated when Spain grinned like that…

"But Portugal, just think of all the gold we'd find! The riches we could bring back for our people!" That… That was tempting. That was very tempting. No, no he wasn't going to give into his brothers temptations.

"The city isn't real."

"It is so!" He sighed, rubbing his temples and doing his best to remain utterly annoyed at his younger brother. It was getting harder though, curiosity was growing.

All that gold…

"Think of the glory we'd bring back for our people, for ourselves~ Just think hermano, how amazing would that be?" The Spaniard's arm was suddenly slung around his shoulder, the map held under his nose. "It'd be fun~"

"It would…" He conceded, before catching himself. Shrugging the arm off his shoulder he turned his back to Spain with the intention of continuing to clean his messy study. "Go off and have a fun adventure. I wish you the utmost luck."

"Hermano! You have to come with me!" The whine made Portugal cover his ears, spinning around and shooting his brother a warning look.

"Spain. I have much more important things to do!"

"Like making a mess out of your library?" That earned Spain a punch in the arm. Squawking slightly the Spaniard rubbed his arm, lower lip jutting out further. "Really, what else could you be doing that's more important than this adventure?"

Exasperated Portugal through his hands up in the air. "Oh, I don't know. Waiting for England to come back and teach me all about witch craft so I can turn people into frogs!"

He had been so frustrated he hadn't realized exactly what he said until it was too late. An almost irritated look crossed over his brother's generally sunny face. "Oh. Waiting for _him_?"

He opted to keep his mouth shut. Throughout the years he'd come to learn that sometimes it was best to just let Spain rant. The pout had been replaced with a scowl, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't see what you see in him. He's such a-"

Portugal tuned him out at that, having heard every complaint that his brother had about the English Nation multiple times. So many in fact he could probably recite them along with Spain. He picked up one of his books, eyes softening. A book of poetry that England had given him, full of loving notes in the margin. A fond smile crossed his face, fingers running over the title, written in golden cursive. England had been so embarrassed, holding it out to Portugal one day. _"I missed your birthday"_ he had said, refusing to meet his gaze. _"It's not like I'm just giving it to you. It would just be rude not to give you a gift for such a special occasion"_ he had tried to add on. By that point he'd been so red, like a tomato. Instead of teasing him though, Portugal had just taken the wrapped gift.

How England always knew what to give him never ceased to amaze Portugal.

"-manooo? Are you even listening to me?" The hand in front of his eyes snapped him out of his (sappy) thoughts. His brother looked even more annoyed then he had prior. Green eyes glanced from the book in his hands, to Portugal's face. He braced himself to hear another tirade, but a strange glint had entered his brother's eyes.

… Goddammit he hated when he got that look too!

"I heard the bastards gone missing," Spain was trying to be nonchalant in his comment, but he had always been terrible at that. Almost as bad as when he tried being sarcastic. Shifting, Portugal looked away, shrugging his shoulders.

"I suppose he has. He had only planned a short trip." He took a seat on one of the chairs, flipping the book open. Maybe if he read Spain would just get the hint and leave.

"Hope he's dead," he could hear his brother mutter beneath his breath. Had the book of poems not been from England, Portugal would have most likely thrown it at him. He opted for a pillow instead, but Spain caught it. Laughing with a bright smile on his face, but a devilish look in his eyes. "And here you are, pinning for him like a wife~"

"I-I am not!" He could feel his cheeks flush, bristling all over like a cat. Spain laughed even harder, soon doubling over. He grabbed another pillow, and soon the older Iberian was beating his younger brother with it. "I am not pining!"

"You're so pinning! You're such a wife!" That aggravating laugh continued, and before Portugal even realized it he was chasing Spain out of his study, down the hallway with the pillow-turned-weapon still in hand.

It must have been quite a sight for the servants to see two young, noble men racing down the halls like they were five year olds. One threatening to beat the other to death with a fairly soft weapon, while the other laughed, shouting teasing words over his shoulder. By the time Portugal had finally caught his brother, tackling him to the ground in the courtyard, they had managed to run around the inside of the fairly large house at least three times. Now that he was caught though, the Portuguese nation took pleasure to slamming the pillow into his brother's still laughing face. Though, honestly he'd forgotten exactly _why_ during the second lap.

After another good smack he sighed, lying down besides Spain in an attempt to catch his breath. His chest heaved as he dragged a hand through his hair, glancing at his brother from the corner of his eye. Spain was grinning brightly, like he'd been given one of his favorite treats. Portugal couldn't help but smile at that too, chuckling despite his earlier aggravation. "Idiot."

Spain turned is head to look at him, his grin brightening. "That's better!"

"What's better?" He lifted an eyebrow, propping himself on his elbows while his brother sat up moving to sit cross legged.

"You were so sulky before!" Spain stated simply, reaching out pinching both of Portugal's cheeks, making him smile more. "I like it when you smile hermano, not frown or look sad!"

A roll of his eyes. He swatted the hands away, but his smile grew, a fond look crossing his face.

"So… El Dorado?" After all, what harm could a little adventure be? Plus… Spain would probably get himself killed if someone wasn't there to keep an eye on him.

"Si~ El Dorado."

"… Give me a week to let my boss know."

**Why hello there Hetalia fanfiction. I feel like I haven't written you in ages! And now prepare for a rambling, long author note! I apologize in advance.**

**Right-o! This fic… I've been trying to finish for months now. I have had the idea in my head for **_**months**_** now, and I totally blame ****chiiko_chan****, bro this is all your fault for planting this plot bunny in my head! And making me **_**never **_**be able to watch **_**The Road to El Dorado**_** without imaging Miguel = Spain, Tulio = Spain strike(And Chel = England /shot)/strike. You suck. Except not really. **

**And then youuu ****keiko-keket****, this is your fault too! Especially since you helped me plot this thing out and listened to all my crazy schemes and helped me make them work :'D Oh yeah, and made my Spain not completely fail. And just helped me edit this. And write the summary. Thank youuu**

**Really, if I had to dedicate a story, it would be to you both 3. Sierra you are the Spain to my Portugal, and Robyn you are the England to it. Without you two around I probably would not have developed him as much as I had (nor fall so in love with Iggyport.) So thank you both 3 **

**But right, back on track. Really, this fic was born because of the aforementioned people above and many thoughts about the Iberian bros hunting for El Dorado on **_**Age of the Steampirate **_**(check us out? /shameless advertisement). Then come NaNoWriMo these two lovely gals encouraged me to write this story as my entry (sadly I dropped out early but shh). Since then this chapters been only halfway completed. At least until I saw ****candesceres**** latest piece of art. Which quickly lead to me looping **_**It's Tough to Be a God**_**, which is now stuck in my head and finishing this up.  
Honestly, this fics going to be **_**a lot**_** of fun to write, and hopefully fun for you all to read! Many aspects of this story will be taken from the movie, as will certain characters strike(I LOVE THE CHIEF, OKAY! ;w; )/strike. But a lot of it too will be very new, and in the end it's a bit more serious than the movie XD; **

**Again, I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I will writing it!**

**Holy moley this became more rambly then I intended… Sorry!**


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